


A Cult, A Determined Soul, & A Tale of the Under.

by Ottsky



Series: Cultale, Apocrypha & Short Stories [2]
Category: Cultist Simulator (Video Game), Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Body Horror, Decopunk, Dieselpunk, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Everyone's a Little Mad, I Haven't Decided What if Any Skeletons Should Be Involved, In that Being a Cultist Involves some Self Mutilation & Transformation, Light a/b/o/k elements, Monsters as Gods, Multi, Other, People are Kidnapped, People are Murdered, Polyamorous Character, Reader Functions Like Frisk But Isn't Frisk, Reader Is Not Frisk (Undertale), Reader Starts a Cult, Reader is a Psychiatrist of Sorts, Reader is not named, Relationship will Come Later, SUMMON ALIEN GODS, Skeleton Sex (Undertale), Slowburn Transformation, Streets Strange by Moonlight, Transformation, Weird Biology, Weird Cult Shit, Weird dreams, people die, reader is ambiguously gendered, reader is trans
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-11-21 07:12:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18139067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ottsky/pseuds/Ottsky
Summary: You were no longer a student. Yet still, you studied endlessly.------------------------------------------------------------A Fusion of Undertale & Cultist Simulator more than a true crossover, the gist of which is that the Mansus and Mt. Ebbott become a intertwined, with the Mansus being the Place where Monsters Live, and the focusing the story on the weird humans who want to go there. Like you!------------------------------------------------------------You, the Reader, have just finished your studies at a prestigious university, and are starting your Residency as a doctor, specialising in the mind and it's myriad effects on the flesh. But that is what you do when the sun is out, and this story is about what you do when the streetlights come on. Recently, you have come into a curious longing through your dreams, a longing for a place that you can only glimpse in the corner of your dreams, or in fitful spurts and starts.And then a curious event happens at work, and you are finally plunged into the world that has brought you such restlessness.





	A Cult, A Determined Soul, & A Tale of the Under.

_ You were no longer a student. Yet still, you studied endlessly. _

 

You stood, now, on the corner of Landry and Downsfield, watching cars go past, those enormous, noisy machines. You did not understand the current fad of V16s, yet here they were. An absolutely decadent Vauxhall Odyssey was growling loudly at a red light, having parked its front wheels in the crosswalk and putting you in the situation of having to step out into the street to get around it if you wanted to go. Not that you were terribly interested in crossing without the warning lamp being on – You’d seen one too many injuries from individuals crossing the street, a sight that had traumatized you enough that you had more than a few nightmares from such an act. Thankfully, such things had passed, at least, for the time being, it seemed.

 

You don’t quite recall when it started, but you had much more vivid dreams as of late, instead. The first one was simple: wandering through a forest - a deep, snowy, white, yet alive space. It bristled with the impression of eyes, animals, and things you could not describe even if you’d wanted to You simply lacked the vocabulary. More than anything however, you remembered that Light. That Radiant, Warm presence, that  **Glory** . You had no explanation to why your very soul said the word “ **Glory** ” was correct, but it felt right. It felt like nothing you’d felt before. It felt like you Had to Go Back.

 

You stepped across the street, walking to an address. You’d received this address from a curious fellow. They were sent to you from a doctor you had met during your...  _ own _ trips to the sanitarium. You shuddered, pushed down a touch of bile as you remembered the documents that had come along with that patient.

 

-

 

He had been found, the police claimed, in a reading room, staring up at the ceiling and giggling madly. Covering the room were esoteric paintings, some of them so hard to look upon that it had taken a call into the Suppression Bureau to find men with stout enough hearts that they could collect it for evidence, and not simply torch the entire apartment. He claimed he had followers, individuals who listened to his beck and call, those who would do anything for him, but if he had, such individuals had melted away like fog on a riverbank when the sky cleared.

 

The man himself had scars all over his body, and he seemed so very happy, and excited, in spite of the overpowering squalor he had consigned himself to. His notes detailed delusions, the apparent result of some sort of fascination with his dreams spilling out into reality. That is, until he seemingly had lost track of what was real and what was not. His most consistent story, the one that made you chill the deepest inside of your body, was his story of -- well.

 

The  **Glory** . He spoke of it in hushed tones, always mentioning that it shone everywhere. He insisted that you had some touch of it too, that he could see that you were questioning how much nonsense he could really be speaking when he  _ knew _ that you’d seen it too.

 

Maybe you hadn’t seen it as extensively as he had, but it was hard to deny that he spoke to something deep in you. This, in spite of his horrid condition: the scars, of course, but also his missing foot, which he appeared to have sewn a prosthetic hoof in place of, or the fact that his blood covered every inch of his room he could reach. In spite of all of that, he was speaking something that you had experienced, though only in those fitful dreams.

 

He gave you an address, and you had held on to it, staring at it during sleepless nights when nightmares woke you. You had thought about discarding it numerous times, but…

 

-

 

You took a breath in, and ducked into the alley, humming as the clean facades of the main street gave away quickly to concrete and brickwork. It wasn’t that the alley was particularly dingy – you’d seen worse – but the anxiety of finally going through with this plan, this thrill and worry of exploring what it is that had driven this man so utterly mad. Worse, or perhaps better, was that drive. That  _ yearning. _ To know. To experience the  **Glory** , properly. To understand what your body craved, to put words to feeling, this was your goal now.

 

The door was a nice, heavy wood, and, as you stepped in, the faint jingling of bells carried through the store. With that jingling came a curious thumping sound, as well. You looked to the counter, only just visible at the other end of the long hall created by rows of bookshelves, and a friendly face flashed back at you.

 

“Welcome- ah, Doctor, I was expecting you.” The woman hums, and beckons you over, and against your initial hesitation, you wander closer.

 

“Don’t look so surprised, dear Doctor- “ She hums, and when she offers you her hand, you stare at it for a moment, expecting some trick, before you shake it. Your handshake is stronger than hers, but only just. “Morland. Judith Morland’s the name, and when you peddle in books, you peddle in knowledge, no?”

 

You nodded quietly, and, finally spoke up. “Well, yes, but I wasn’t aware that people were aware of the end of my proper stud- “ You stopped, and then your eyes flickered with a touch of knowing, and Morland grinned back wider.

 

“And now you know why I would be aware of such things, dearest Doctor.”

 

“_______.” You followed up.

 

She nodded slowly, and took a few steps, that curious thumping sound coming with it, though you could now assume it had something to do with her boots or the like. “A nice name, yes, but, well.” She flashed a slight grin. “As much as I enjoy knowing my customers, names are dangerous when you come for your reasons, Doctor.”

 

You blinked a few times, and then frowned. “I simply came here for- “

 

“More information, yes? But what kind of information, doctor? Certainly not more about the most recent discoveries in the fields of medicine, you could find far more interesting places for that…”

Determined to push past this coy nature, you pressed. “Did you know the late Mr. Medellin? Died in my care, he did, babbling about things, and... mentioned your shop.”

 

Morland tapped her finger on her chin slowly, pondering the question. “I don’t recall, Doctor…Though I suppose it is a touch hard to know every person who comes through, and most of them keep their names to themselves…”

 

Another frown from yourself, and then a sigh, before shuffling out your wallet from within your coat, huffing quietly to yourself at this situation. Morland herself waved her hand, chuckling a little bit. “Oh, no no no darling, do not worry about that. I am not interested in  _ bribery, _ Doctor. I simply…Perhaps I was not clear the first time.”

 

A balisong appeared upon the counter, coming from somewhere in Morland’s coat. It was obviously well taken care of, and more worryingly, well used, from the subtle grooves in its grip, and the way that, when she scooped it back up, she flicked it open and close with ease. “This is a place of dangerous things, Doctor, and if I were you, I would accept that this danger results in a certain level of confidence. Just like You have with your patients, I have with my clients.”

 

Slowly, you unwound from the tension that had inhabited your senses. You were not interested in a stab wound, and frankly, the woman had something that you wanted. And Determination won out against worry here, as you sighed, and shook your head, diverting your original intent into a new one, pulling out a collection of notes.

 

“How much for a book, then?” You asked, words sounding more confident than your actual trust in them.

 

“Fifty, and I’ll give you two.” Before you could respond, she placed a package on the counter, fairly large and wrapped in Kraft paper. “Customers like you…get whatever I have to hand you, Doctor. The rest of this is simply bawdy books and boring texts that keep certain acquaintances away from my doorstep.” She pushed it over to you, and, slowly, you shuffled out a set of notes, handing them to the store owner. She smiled, writing out a small receipt for you, and sticking it under the twine holding the package together tightly.

 

“Do have a nice time, reading, Doctor. I will be here whenever you are ready to return.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much to MsMk, NihilismPastry, CaptLadybutts, Zemiki, @lazycootblast (and that entire server), @Ficusart, @wolfcau, @chopshoppar, @momdogellie, & last but certainly far from least, the folks over at Weather Factory (especially you Alexis Kennedy wtf your writing's so good) for inspiring me to finally crank out some fuckin' _work_ that's an actual story and not a random drabble that I write in a fit of inspiration! I hope y'all enjoy, and if you want to comment about things what you're curious about, it'll help me know where I should touch on things when they come up! Also, thanks to @KaiThoreau for betaing this first chapter (and likely many others) as i'm amazingly good at not writing cleanly when i start pounding at the keys.
> 
> minor points of order! 
> 
> -most people are going to refer to the character as "The Doctor," because it's a nice, gender neutral term, but i'll probably come up with more nicknames and ways to avoid puting _______ in as a substitute for a name.  
> -the writing style is going to be an /attempt/ at being a touch flowery & ominous, but my own writing style is terse and sparing, so you'll have to forgive me as i explore the text and learn what works best for me.  
> -this is going to end up a poly relationship! it's going to be with at least one of the followers, the reader, and at least one skeleton, because i like skeletons.  
> -there's going to be inclusions of au-versions of characters, because i like them, but it's going to be random & interspersed, trying to capture people fitting with their proper "principles."  
> -the reader is not going to go grail because grail is /weird/ and i'll fight anyone who wants to see that kinda body horror in my fic because they can /write their own damn fic/


End file.
